


Wicked Game

by Lichterin



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Assassin AU, Assassin Jared Padalecki, Enemies to not-yet-Lovers, Enemy Lovers, Killer Jared P, M/M, Serial Killer Jensen Ackles, Serial Killers AU, kinda non con kissing, talk about Blood and Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 00:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16800040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichterin/pseuds/Lichterin
Summary: “I know...” Ackles muttered into the pillow, eyes closed. “I know we have this whole rivalry thing going on, with you wanting to kill me or whatever. But we both know it’s gonna go down in a fight and not in my sleep, ‘cause despite your kill streak… you’re a fair man, Padalecki. Can I crash on your couch? Thanks.”





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Wincest Writing Challenge. (I did start writing wincest but then I got stuck and wrote this instead. Well.)
> 
> My prompt was Worst and/or/vs Best Kiss.  
> Which did I choose? Jared says worst, I say best.

_Ding Dong_

Jared grumbled and put down his mug and the book he’d been reading. He got off the couch and gave Harley a pat in apology for kicking him off his lap. Harley whined and layed down by his feet, looking up at him with his best puppy eyes.

“Sorry buddy, this will be just a sec,” Jared reassured him.

He grabbed the handgun from the coffee table.

Jared walked through the hallway on quiet feet, but the person at the door was so loudly hammering at the door, he could be stomping over in iron boots and his visitor wouldn’t hear him.

He glanced through the peephole. All he could see was the top of a head, leaning against the door presumably. Jared frowned, he was always suspicious when he got unannounced guests at his door, especially if he couldn’t see who it was before opening it.

The pounding stopped and the person muttered something Jared wasn't able to catch. He readied his gun before he opened the door.

The man stumbled the smallest step, then regained his balance. He straightened up, shoulders back, chest out and appeared immediately taller than when he had been slumped against the door.

A rush of adrenaline hit Jared. He raised his gun, more on instinct than anything else, and pointed it straight to his chest.

This was Ackles. Jensen Ackles.

Ackles gaze was unfocused, his posture unnaturally stiff. Jared was stumped, not only because Ackles apparently found out where he lived, but also because somehow the sight of him felt off. His usual bravado was missing. He was trying, Jared could see, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Ackles fainted right there on the spot.

“Chill out with the gun, I’m not here to attack you,” said Ackles, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Completely disregarding the weapon in Jared’s hands, he shoved past him into the apartment. “Or kill you.”

Jared felt overheated. He was an assassin - had been for years - he should be able to handle this situation better. He should be able to regain his cool—to not even _lose_ it—no matter how surprised he was or how ridiculous a moment seemed.

“How do you know where I live?” He shouted over his shoulder, then closed the door before one of his neighbours thought about calling the police. He followed Ackles into the living room, not wanting to let him out of his sight. He brought his gun back up, aiming at Ackles.

Ackles didn’t mind. He grabbed Jared’s mug and downed the rest of his tea. Harley glanced at him and stumbled at few steps back, sniffing from a distance, before curling up in his dog bed on the other side of the room, watching him with suspicious eyes.

Jared stared in irritation as Ackles fell onto his couch and rolled over to lie on his stomach. “I know...” he muttered into the pillow, eyes closed. “I know we have this whole rivalry thing going on, with you wanting to kill me or whatever. But we both know it’s gonna go down in a fight and not in my sleep, ‘cause despite your kill streak… you’re a fair man, Padalecki. Can I crash on your couch? Thanks.”

_Rivalry_. Yeah, right. Ackles was the one who constantly got in his way, not the other way round. Jared would be happy to never have to see him _ever_ again.

Jared stood like that for—he had a brilliant feeling for time and should really be able to tell—for… _a while_. He eventually lowered his gun when Ackles started to snore.

Harley gave another whine and Jared dared to take his eyes off the intruder on his couch to glance at Harley. “C’mon buddy, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

His ears picked up like he understood him, and while he wasn’t the best guard dog, Jared firmly believe he _did_ understand everything he said. He was just that smart of a dog. At least, you know, _most_ of the time.

“Come, Harley,” he said and Harley trotted after him into his bedroom, like the good boy he was.

“I’m sorry our evening got interrupted like that,” he said and kneeled down to scratch him behind his ear. “We’ll just cuddle in bed, okay?”

Harley gave a low bark and jumped onto the bed, wagging his tail and waiting for Jared to lay down with him. “I’ll be right back, yeah bud? Stay here, Harley.”

Jared went back to the living room and stood next to Ackles for a minute, listing to his breaths and making sure he truly was asleep. He then gathered all the weapons he hid in this room. Knives. One in the coffee table drawer, one behind the couch, taped to the wall. You could never be too careful with your hiding places for sharp tools, living with a dog. But better to have enough quickly reachable weapons than be sorry when someone breaks into your apartment when you're not prepared for a fight. 

Jared… had a lot of enemies. They came with the job, really. Jensen Ackles was one of the more unusual ones. Ackles had no reason to dislike him, as far as Jared knew. To Jared it seemed like he simply took pleasure in messing with him. Ackles was screwed up like that. But then again, Ackles _was_ a serial killer after all.

He left the razor blade under the office chair, in case he’d need it for himself. Then he picked up all three pistols in the room, because if Ackles got to one of them… Well.

He didn’t want to risk waking Ackles, so he didn’t check for hidden blades he might have on him and only took the gun from his waistband. His leg holster was empty.

This close to him he noticed the blood on his clothes, and hoped he had no fresh wounds. He didn't want to have to clean his couch. There were only so many professional cleaners in town and he was running out of excuses. Besides, this was his second couch this year and it was still fairly new. At least it was black this time.

Jared debated if he should tie Ackles up (the couch wasn’t the best place for that, though, dammit), or hell, just fucking stab him, fair man his ass. But—this couch was _really_ new. It would be such a shame to ruin it so quickly. And he really didn’t want to deal with another body today.

He shrugged half-heartedly and went to his bedroom. He turned on the TV mounted to the wall across his bed and pulled up the security camera feed of his living room. Ackles hasn’t moved.

Jared settled into bed, dressed, and let Harley curl into his side. He should have made coffee. This was going to be a long night.

—

Jared woke with a jolt.

Shit, he had fallen asleep. One quick glance at the TV told him Ackles wasn't in the living room anymore. Next, he realized Harley wasn't with him. The bedroom door was closed.

Something hot swooped in his gut—and it wasn't arousal. He felt the panic creep into his chest, making it hard to breath. Ackles had been in here while he had slept, at least to open the door. It was a wonder he was still alive, but maybe Ackles had wanted to—

If he had done something to his dog Jared was going to murder him with his bare hands. Take each and every one of his organs apart, piece by piece. Chop him up until—Harley barked. Oh _thank god_ , he was still alive. As far as he could tell it wasn't a distressed bark.

Jared's brain kickstarted and he got up, grabbing the nearest knife and crept to the door. He turned the knob, opened the door silently, expecting to get jumped, but what actually hit him was the smell of coffee.

He sneaked through the hallway and hated the fact that he felt unsafe in his own four walls. His home had always been a place of retreat, of cuddles with Harley and good books and movies. He never took work home. And he always made sure to have enough time for Harley. If Ackles did something to him…

Jared momentarily closed his eyes and swallowed. That's why you didn't mix personal with professional. _Especially_ in his line of work. But he couldn’t think about that now. He needed to focus and keep his emotions at bay.

Noise was coming from the kitchen. The door was ajar.

God, he should have taken the gun. Stupid.

He kicked open the door, noticed right away Ackles was standing with the back to him and so he fought the urge to hide behind the wall.

He should attack now before Ackles could turn around and shoot him. But his eyes fell on Harley, munching on something in his bowl.

“ _Harley_ ,” he called out, relief obvious in his voice. Harley gave him one quick look before turning back to his food. He should stop him, in case it was poisoned, but that moment was when Ackles turned around, not a gun in his hand but something silver. Jared kept his own knife in front of him and said, “ _Drop the kn_ — fork?”

Ackles stood at the stove, a pan was sizzling behind him. He was holding a fork and gave him a crooked grin.

“Are you using the fork on the pan? I have spatulas!” Why was that the first thing that came to Jared’s mind?

“Sorry,” said Ackles and turned back to the pan. “But the eggs are about done now anyway. Coffee too, if you wanna.”

This was so absurd.

“I’m not going to eat anything you cooked, because I know for fact I have poison in here. Given that this is, you know, my apartment.”

Ackles shrugged. “Fair enough.”

He plated the eggs and took a piece of bread, sat down at the table and dug right in. Jared stood in the doorway, watching.

Jared lowered the knife. Ackles non reaction made him more nervous than the fact that he was in here at all. He was acting so casual, not like this was the apartment of his enemy, _which it was_.

How the hell was Jared supposed to react?

Harley scurried past his feet, out of the kitchen. He’d need to go on a walk with him soon.

“You better not have done anything to Harley, or I swear to god I’ll—” Jared started to say, but Ackles’s face made the words stuck in his throat. Did he look _hurt_?

“I would never do anything a _dog_ , jeez,” he said. “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“How do you know where I live?” Jared asked. That had been haunting him since yesterday.

Ackles shrugged, barely looking up. He already ate half of his eggs. “You know.”

No, Jared didn’t. He frowned at him.

“Well, you know where _I_ live, right?” asked Ackles and looked skeptically up at him. Jared minutelly shook his head. “What, really? Damn, I really hoped you’d come visit someday. I have _the best_ traps, seriously.” He grinned.

Jared felt like his head was spinning. He went over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup, then slumped into the chair across from Ackles.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Jared asked, but it didn’t have the heat he wanted.

Ackles huffed a breath. “It’s a bit of a long story that I really don’t want to tell you, for, you know, reasons.” Jared’s quirked an eyebrow. Yeah no, he didn’t actually expect a serial killer to tell him what he’d been up to.

“The gist is,” Ackles continued, “I got drugged yesterday and it was really fucking with me. Dizziness, motor control… I needed to get away from there before it properly kicked in. And, well, your apartment was close, so…”

“Great, who did you lead to my apartment?”

“Nobody was following me.”

Jared sighed heavily and pushed his mug to Ackles. “Take a sip,” he said.

Ackles rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He nearly downed half the coffee. Fine, so that wasn’t poisoned after all.

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” said Ackles after he had finished his breakfast. “I know this wasn’t… the most usual of situations.”

“Yeah, you don’t say,” Jared deadpanned. He never thought he’d ever have a civil conversation with Jensen Ackles. Let alone in his own apartment.

“So,” said Ackles and pushed away his plate, leaning back in the chair. “You’re reading The Fault in Our Stars?”

“Shut up, it’s a good book.” Jared scowled at him and played with his knife, spinning it around his fingers.

“Oh, I wasn’t mocking,” said Ackles. “I saw the movie. But it was a while ago.”

Jared imagined him watching The Fault in Our Stars with an impassive face, even at the end. Though today didn’t quite fit with his previous impressions. He kind of always imagined him as a psychopath, laughing at the pain of others. But of course underneath their usual, hm, _shenanigans_ , he was a normal person like himself. A private life away from everything, maybe a dog, perhaps he had a girlfriend... 

Jared clenched his jaw and stared at him. He didn’t like the way Ackles was shifting the picture he had of him in his mind.

He tried to think of all the times Ackles had come in between him and his business, felt the anger bubble up in him again.

“I think I should go now,” said Ackles and smiled, but not in the mean way.

Jared hummed. Or he could kill him right here, no witnesses, no trouble.

“Thanks, for having me, Jared.”

_Jared_. At once his blood pressure was rising. “Padalecki,” he bit out and stood up. “We’re not fucking friends.”

Ackles stood up as well. “‘Course not, sorry, _Padalecki_. I just thought, after I slept here and all, I shouldn’t call you by your last name.”

“Get out before I rip this knife through your jugular veins.”

“Sure,” said Ackles and put his used plate into the sink. “By the way, could I have my pistol back?”

“No.”

“Of course not…” he muttered and sighed over-dramatically.

Jared accompanied him to the door.

“You have a nice apartment,” said Ackles, studying the picture on the little hallway table where he kept Harley’s leash and his keys. It was a photo of him and Harley when he was a puppy. Jared was once again reminded of the sheer _surrealness_ of all this. “But I thought you would have a cute little girlfriend or something.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Jared coldly.

“Not even a hot sugar babe in your bed?” Ackles gave a little half smirk, and now he was mocking for sure. “Though I admit, you live pretty low key here.”

“That’s none of your business,” said Jared and took a step forward, squaring his shoulders. Ackles wasn’t intimidated and he looked him straight in the eyes.

“A boyfriend, then?” Ackles was coming closer. Jared shuffled backwards and the next second he was backed against the wall. His arms fell to the side, he was still gripping the knife.

“I’ve got—” Jared cleared his throat. That had to be because Ackles smelled like dried blood. “I’ve got enough Bond girls all over me, thank you very much.”

“I wasn’t offering,” said Ackles, chin high. He brought his hands up against the wall, his arms caging Jared in. Jared was taller than him, but he felt small. He was starting to sweat.

“And I’d rather not share my love life with you,” said Jared through his teeth, but despite himself, continued. “I’m neither gay nor do I have any shortage when it comes to sex.”

“Oh, I _bet_ you’re not short,” said Ackles with a gleam in his eyes. Jared nearly choked on his tongue. “Do they give you good head?”

“They give better blowjobs than you ever could, even with that cock sucker mouth of yours.” Jared’s pounding heart grew louder in his chest. Did he actually just say that?

Ackles smirked. “Yeah?”

Jared got a fluttery, empty feeling in his stomach but he couldn’t back out now. “Yeah. And they give the best kisses, too.”

“So good you barely know they’re faking it?” Ackles voice went down to a low whisper and he came closer.

“Oh, none of them are faking it, I assure you,” said Jared. He had to glance away, Ackles face was only inches from his and he could feel his hot breath on his mouth.

Jared wet his lips, god, Ackles wasn’t going to kiss him, was he? He felt the hair on his arms raise, his blood rushing through his ear. Ackles said something he didn’t catch and his eyes snapped back.

And then Ackles mouth was on his, his tongue slipping immediately past Jared’s lips, leaving him breathless with the way his tongue took over in his mouth. Jared couldn't focus, Ackles was kissing him hot and urgend, and then he drew slightly back, biting Jared’s lower lip. A shiver of pleasure went down his spine, all his nerve endings were tingling.

The kiss was brutal and quick, the next moment Ackles was already off him, taking a step back and finally letting Jared breathe.

Jared blinked at him, weak in the knees. He couldn’t find anything to say.

“And?” Ackles prompted, looking smug.

Jared swallowed hard. “Worst kiss of my life,” he said, his voice raw. 

“If you say so,” said Ackles with a cocky smile and tilted head.

“You smell like death,” added Jared, trying to regain his composure. 

“I often do.” Ackles gave Jared a clap on the shoulder that had him nearly doubling over. “Figure out where I live and come visit me sometime,” he said and winked at him.

Jared swallowed, too lightheaded to answer.

Ackles ran a hand through his short, messy hair, shot him one last grin and left.

**Author's Note:**

> Little Update:  
> Yes, there will be a continuation, I've got it outlined and half written. But life is a bit stressful right now and I can barely find the time to write.
> 
> Also, thank you guys so much for the lovely comments! I _will_ reply eventually <3


End file.
